I can see a blanket of lights out of the passenger in front of me’s window. This flight isn’t full. Would it have been so bad to assign me a different seat that actually had a window?

Four dresses rest in a rolled suitcase nestled below the plane. They weren’t supposed to be. But this plane also has the smallest carry on stow-aways I have seen yet.

I decided to pack light. My bra is stuffed with money. My credit card and id are in my pocket. I really hope they don’t lose my luggage. Please don’t let there be yet one more annoyance to deal with.

I sit in the quiet wash and wonder if this was the best decision. Maybe dad’s plan to guilt me succeeded. I felt bad before I even got on the plane.

Meanwhile a few hundred miles away, a handsome suited gent is eagerly awaiting my arrival at one of the most posh and up and coming hotels on the strip. I know that he’s hoping this will be a weekend where we fall in love. I fear he may already be dangerously close to it.

I’ve been so guarded with my heart that I have forgotten what it’s like to have someone that gives a shit like that. I’m so used to being the one who does.

Meanwhile a few hundred miles away, a handsome suited gent- my boyfriend, eagerly awaits my arrival. He says this is the first of many trips he hopes to take with me. That he wants me to be able to take care of things with my family. That he wants a family. That he adores me.

I know he’s hoping this will be a weekend where we fall in love. I fear he may be dangerously close to it.

I feel the drop of the plane. We are getting close already. I remember the last time I was on a plane to meet a gentleman. Of the build up and the anticipation. Of everything in between. Perhaps waiting would have been better. Was this the right decision? Will this be the make or break for us? I just posted the facebook status change- something I hadn’t done with anyone else since I got onto the site years ago.

I’m thinking about my biggest fan. I’m thinking about the bartender. I’m thinking about my first love. I’m thinking about the last lover I had before I left Illinois the first time. I’m thinking about the rockabilly geek from a couple of summers ago. I’m thinking about the suited gent from the past holiday. I’m thinking about…

Scene: a kitchen in a spooky historical loft, just outside of downtown Los Angeles

“Please don’t kill me.” I sent to him along with a picture of my confirmed flight.

He made no promises.

“What the hell am I thinking? I just met him a week ago.” I said to my friend who had brought me out to happy hour to catch up on the post holiday news.

“Have fun. It’s an adventure.”

And it was going to be. I was nervous and excited and nervous and excited and…

I felt the rush inside of me as I clicked confirm for the flight. He’d asked me the day after I met him… before we parted ways on our buses after that amazing first date.

I had no clue what to expect except to have zero expectations. I already adored this man. Would the trip solidify that even more? Or would I fuck things up?

I was nervous and excited. I knew before I even opened the browser to check on flights that I would get people telling me I was crazy to even consider it let alone do it. But great rewards come from great risks. Like that first message. Like the ones that followed. Like every day you wake up and get out of bed.

I’d made the decision to myself that this was the year I stopped holding myself back. I’ve had moments where I’ve stepped away from believing that. I’m working on making them less common. And every day I’ve felt a little bit stronger. Every day I’ve felt amazing.

What would happen in Vegas, I didn’t know.

“Have fun. It’s an adventure.”

Every damn day is an adventure. Don’t hold yourself back from experiencing every last bit of it.